


How could I go home when you're all I want to know?

by Laeana



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: 2019 Season, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Tragedy, Angst with a Happy Ending, Declarations Of Love, Dreams and Nightmares, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Self-Doubt, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:49:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28343427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana
Summary: Lewis has won the world championship for the sixth time !And when he wakes up, the next morning, everything is the same. Except for one thing.Sebastian Vettel is dead.
Relationships: Lewis Hamilton/Sebastian Vettel
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	How could I go home when you're all I want to know?

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [crashing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21400114) by [Laeana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana). 



It’s time to party. Everything is a bit hazy, Lewis doesn't really care. He is happy. Sixth time world champion, damn it ! He knows he has the right to have fun, he knows he has the right to let go. This night is his after all.

He has felt blue irises devour him since entering the room. When a warm body moves closer to his, he grins broadly, knowing full well how the evening will end.

“Did you come to claim your prize ?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“My price ? Shouldn't I give you one for your new title instead ?”

“Mmh, that wouldn't be so fun.”

He finally turns around, facing Sebastian who is still looking at him with such eyes ... a deep urge he wants to fill. He hastens to put his lips on those of the one in front of him, the crowd covering up their every action.

His impatience is quickly felt as the kiss grows. The German's hands glide expertly over his body to find his erogenous zones.

“Are you sure you can escape the party now, Lew ? It's still your moment.”

“My moment that I can decide to spend with whoever I want. Come on, come on.”

He grabs him by the hand and leads him after him. His hotel is not very far. Two streets on foot. The fresh air makes him feel good. The wait seems endless before they arrive in the room and he is thrown against the wall by a driver in a very, very rush.

The kisses that Seb deposits in the hollow of his jaw are of an intimacy that he can only be satisfied with undergoing them, delighted and fulfilled.

“I love you, Lewis Hamilton, and I'm proud of you. Proud of what you have accomplished.”

This is the time when he should answer that he feels the same but he never gets there. His words don't leave his mouth. Then silence falls and, although the youngest one doesn’t seem to take offense, he is hurt deep down. He knows it.

He puts his arms around his rival's neck, letting the latter take him and lay him on the bed. There is still some hesitation, an expectation of consent in the middle of it all. He hastens to dispel it.

“Seb, fuck me. If you want to give me something, then offer me that. Offer me yourself.”

When his companion's eyes darken, he knows he has hit his target. Desire, lust ... he likes to stir up these emotions in his lover who is usually so calm, so composed. He likes to make him lose control.

The touches are amplified and he is more than ever happy to be here, at this precise moment, with the man he loves more than anything in the world. Even if he doesn't say it. 

His bad experiences have given him a tendency to have difficulty clinging to others, to trusting them. Their relationship has been going on for two years now but is not really exclusive. Sebastian understood this without having to say anything.

However, he knows that it would only need a request from him, a wish for his partner to leave his wife and formalize. Only one word. It kills him because he is not able to properly express his feelings to whoever would be willing to go and win the Moon for him.

He is more than anything afraid of losing his love. Because the latter could tire of his silence and decide to go away. But he doesn't. So they stay like that, waiting for him to find the right words. And his eyes close as he enjoys the moment.

* * *

When they open up again it's pretty weird. Lewis is at his hotel for sure, but the place next door is cold and long since. His companion's things are no longer in the room. Seb wouldn't have left like a thief, it doesn't look like him.

He gets his phone back. He's got loads of posts and reactions all around, on social media. It is however well Monday, November 4, 2019. From here, he can see his trophy lying around. He's still the world champion too. So why does he have this funny feeling ? Something is wrong.

“Lewis ? You're awake ?”

His press officer. Did he screw up yesterday ? He might have been seen with his lover, after all he didn't really think about the consequences of bringing him here.

“Yes ?”

“Awesome. I know yesterday was very emotional. I know a lot has happened and your actions have been a testament of one of the finest tributes you could have paid.”

Tribute ? Whose ? Why ? He didn't pay tribute to anyone yesterday. Well, he thanked his team, did the basics. But a tribute ?

“But I had to come and warn you however you may be late for the official eulogy that has him today.”

“Eulogy ?”

“Oh, did you forget ? I know it's probably something you'd rather forget. There was also a lot of alcohol yesterday, right ? Sebastian Vettel's funeral oration begins in an hour, next to the track.”

Fu ... neral ? No. It’s not possible. His breath panics, he quickly checks his phone, passing the messages full of excuses and replies to his Instagram post. Internet. He types his lover's name.

The shock almost makes him drop his phone. He can hardly believe what he's reading. It's unbelievable because yesterday, Seb was there, with him, congratulated him, he was alive. But not today.

**After the serious accident caused by the state of the suspensions of his car, Sebastian Vettel was taken to hospital. In critical condition, doctors reportedly did everything possible to resuscitate him.**  
**Alas, he apparently passed away around 10 p.m. A tragedy which covers such a happy advent.**

No. No no no. It cannot be true ... it is not true. Not him. Drops of water fall on his screen, he struggles to realize that these are tears that overflow from his eyes. He is devastated.

“Lewis ? I'll be waiting for you in the lobby to take you there. Try to be downstairs in thirty minutes ?”

He doesn’t answer. Go through the videos one after the other. Sees the accident and dissects his own reaction when he finds out.

He sees his face close immediately, a little disbelief then realization. And the fight against tears.

He gave speeches that were a little impersonal but all very complimentary. Admiring. He feels his own love shining through in all these words. No one can fail to see his dismay and deep distress, pain.

Fuck.

He doesn't know if he's going crazy. It seems too unreal to him. It's a dream, it's probably a dream ! But the suffering remains the same. 

And when he opens his eyes again, the room is still just as empty. And when he opens his eyes again, his German doesn't reappear.

His hands are shaking. His whole body is shaking as he walks to the back of his room. Near the closet, there is a black suit. Formal. He must have prepared it himself yesterday. But how ?

He's not the type to believe in fantasies. Yet he would like it to be one. That he landed in a parallel universe and that he could go home if he found ... anything.

It doesn't even seem supernatural to him anymore. Lewis knows that if he tells anyone about it, he'll be taken for a fool or just someone who can't come to terms with reality. Yet he knows it. He still has the feel of the Ferrari driver's touches on his body yesterday evening.

And it cannot not be true. He refuses to admit it. But for some reason, it seems that here, the suspension problem that his companion had managed to master, turned out to be more serious than expected. Until killing him.

He puts on the outfit that is on the bed, takes a deep breath. Before going out. He doesn't know what else to do. In the elevator, he thinks. He thinks without finding a solution to his situation because, in the end, what can he do ?

His attache looks relieved when he sees him and they leave the hotel. The road is silent. He doesn't want to talk.

Arriving in front of the track gives him a big shock. There are a lot of people here. A lot. Tears, lamentations, closed airs. The closer he gets to the assembly of pilots, the more a weight weighs on his heart.

The younger ones look defeated, most seem extinct, some have red eyes. Valtteri walks up to him.

“You deal with the shock ?”

As he prepares to answer, his throat chokes and his voice doesn't come out. He bites his lip. It's too real. Is it real ? His teammate pats him gently on the back. He doesn't expect to be hugged by Charles who seems to be upset and in need of it.

He receives nods or sometimes more cordial gestures. The more he goes, the more his heart seems to slow down. A buzzing in his head, his legs are heavy. 

What he didn't expect to see was a coffin. Who will surely be repatriated to Germany, as soon as this ceremony is over. He doesn't even understand. 

Pale face. Blue eyes, his magnificent ocean irises filled with tenderness, are closed forever. He no longer contains his emotion and rushes towards his body. His hands grip the ledge. Heavy breathing.

Peaceful air. Calm air. Gloomy air. Looks lifeless.

Over. Yesterday's scene is played out in his head. The laughs, the kisses, the touches. What if these were the moments that were a dream ?

Suddenly Lewis doesn't care about the crowd around him anymore, not that he did pay much attention to them from the start, but they all seem to disappear. His eyes close before they open again and his vision blurs.

Passing a hand in front, he realizes that they are wet. He realizes he is crying. The drops roll down his cheeks and fall on his companion's inert ones. Of the man who is his. 

He collapses.

A sob passes his lips. He takes his face in his hands, wanting to escape this horrible sight. 

The idea of the house they share ... empty. The idea of spending the rest of his life without him. To never see him again, never to talk to him again, never to be able to hug him or even kiss him again, of never ...

Never have been able to say "I love you".

An arm goes around his shoulders. He reacts little, almost letting himself go, he feels so lost. It is to move him aside that this contact occurs. 

“I don't want to leave him …”

“I know, Lewis.”

Kimi leads him to the back, away from the crowd. The older one is surprisingly comforting. He has a hard time stopping his tears, honestly. He feels close to the anxiety attack. His reality is shattered.

“I can’t believe it. I love him so much. He can't ... no longer be there.” 

No answer. A silence that suggests the worst. He is dizzy. He feels himself dying in turn. A part of him. He just wants to isolate himself and cry all the tears in his body. He just wants to go back to yesterday.

The Alfa Romeo driver remains by his side for the rest of the ceremony. Where he observes people placing flowers, giving speeches. The pilots. He should do one too. He doesn't know if he would be able to.

Being in Formula 1 meant to control his emotions most of the time. About the image shared or even about the races that a little too much feelings could spoil. Letting go like that is not good but it is not even something that he can regulate.

Daniel and Carlos replace Kimi. They don't say anything either, the worry is visible in their eyes. Lewis contemplates the void, undone.

A few hours later, he is lying on the sofa in his hotel room. His life has just shattered. Because he just feels like he can't live without Sebastian. Technically, of course, it’s possible.

He feels like he was shot. He has the impression that it is he who was in this coffin. He would have preferred. He closes his eyes.

It is a very unpleasant feeling to want to forget everything at the moment. 

* * *

And when he opens his eyes, the room is dark. The blanket over him is heavy. Is he in his bed ? Was it a dream ? Was it one ? His trophy is still in the bedroom. The place next to him is still cold.

His legs are shaking as he stands up. His stomach on the edge of his lips. Is his love really dead ? The only good news is that this time his press officer is not at the door.

It's cold. He shivers from the contact with his bare skin. He lowers his head, goes to the adjacent room where the sofa is located, but doesn’t finish his way.

“Lew' ? I was just about to wake you up. You know what time it is, we're gonna-”

The firm chest he bumped into. 

His knees collapse under him as he begins to cry. Of relief this time. It was so real, it was so real. His German immediately kneels beside him.

“Lewis, Liebe, are you all right ? What happened ? Did I say something-”

He comes to hug with force this man who is his, snuggling in his neck where he sobs to his heart’s content. 

“I love you I love you I love you.”

“Um yes ? Me too but you scare me, mein Herz.”

He doesn’t answer. He comes to kiss him with passion. The exchange intensifies, it is as if his partner feels he needs it. When the kiss ends, the Ferrari driver puts a hand full of softness on his cheek.

“Bad dream ?” his man asks, quietly.

He nods and his lover kisses his temple. They sit facing each other on the floor. The scene would be hilarious if Sebastian wasn't so careful with him. Worried.

“Everything was the same as yesterday but you ... your suspension problem was more serious. You ... were dead. And I couldn't believe it but it was too real. Everyone paid tribute to you, you were no longer with me ... I didn't even tell you that I loved you.”

“Lewis …”

“No, it's important. To say it. You matter to me, you are an integral part of my life. I shouldn't have such a hard time admitting it to you. It's just so ... I'm sorry. It's me.”

His companion sighs softly and fixes his gaze in his. He struggles to face the inquisitive but vivid blue gaze. So alive. All the weight that sat on his heart is slowly disappearing.

“You don't have to force yourself to say it, Lew. I know that you love me. I know it by every action you do, the way you look at me and sometimes you don't need words to express it. It's just obvious. I know you, I expect nothing more than what you already give me because I love you, you and your insecurities, all of you.”

He gasps. These are just words he never wants to forget, no matter what they're going through. They have known each other for a long time. He feels like he can never thank the younger one enough for everything he has done for him. He knows it's not something the latter cares about.

So he lets himself go a little more in the warm embrace offered to him by the other pilot who peacefully caresses his back with precise gestures, making his last fears and worries disappear.

“Everything is fine, Liebe, everything is fine. I'm here, I'll never leave you.”

He closes his eyes.

And when he opens them, Sebastian is still there, by his side.

**Author's Note:**

> oooooh ! Just read the note I left there and it was the first time I was writing about them at the moment.  
> Which was such a paradox because they have been my first ever ship in F1 and I put way more time before writing something about them.
> 
> A bit of angst, but that ends well ... it seems a bit too much like me, indeed.
> 
> tumblr : laeana


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